


Pastries and Other Sweet Things

by sorcererinslytherin



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Bakery and Coffee Shop, M/M, jeremwood, secret springfairy, soft sweet fluffies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24020161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorcererinslytherin/pseuds/sorcererinslytherin
Summary: Oh god, Jeremy just has the BIGGEST crush on the guy with the sweet tooth that comes in every damn day. It’s a shame Ryan only seems to have eyes for the desserts.Written for the RT Writer's Discord "Secret Springfairy" event. TW: abuse - nothing too serious.
Relationships: Jeremy Dooley/Ryan Haywood
Comments: 7
Kudos: 103





	Pastries and Other Sweet Things

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Abuse. Nothing too serious, but some domestic violence. Not your thing, please don't read.
> 
> Written for the RT Writer's Discord's Secret Springfairy event! I enjoyed writing this - mostly shameless fluff with some plot, but these are good boys who deserved a bit of time to play! I hope you enjoy this, Rowen. If you have an AO3, let me know and I'll gift this work to you! :)

Life was normally pretty easy running a bakery, most of the time. Jeremy rarely had to deal with unruly customers or people who didn’t pay. His bakery was located on the corner of Earl and Somerset, near the grocery store, and he had a pretty normal stream of regulars that would come in and out. The worst of his problems boiled down to quietly ushering sobbing customers out when his bakery was the chosen spot for a breakup. But a cookie and a smile normally helped soothe the worst of broken hearts.

He thought so, anyways.

Today was a day like any other. He made himself busy behind the counter, done serving the lunch rush looking for his sandwiches made on his fresh-baked bread, when the bell over the door rang. Expecting just any customer, he looks up with a smile, wiping his hands on his apron and moving to the cash register to take the order.

When he saw the man, though, his heart dropped out of his chest and down towards his shoes. Holy _shit_. He’d never seen this man before. He would fucking know if this specimen came into his store before now.

With dusty blond hair, a dad bod that was just on the right side of chiseled, and a dumb ass backwards cap on his head, the man was attractive in a way that meant he had no idea, which was genuinely all sorts of appealing for Jeremy, who was used to dating men (and women) who knew they were attractive and boasted about it constantly.

He shoves back memories of his last messy breakup and grins brightly at the new customer, happy they were - for now - alone. “Hey,” he hums. “How can I help?”

“Hi,” the man says back and Jeremy’s toes curl in his shoes at that delightful baritone. “Are those cannolis?”

“Fresh baked,” Jeremy chuckles. “I grew up in Boston and learned from the best. These rival Mikes, if you can fuckin’ believe that.” Shit. He needed to remember not to swear in front of customers, but the man just made him feel at ease. Thankfully, it made the blond smile back. “Don’t know what Mikes’ is, but I’ll try one for sure, thanks.”

Jeremy nods breathlessly at that smile and grabs a cannoli, placing it on the top of the counter. “Is this for here or are you taking it out with you?”

The man frowns, glancing at his watch, and swears a bit. “Fuck, I promised my boyfriend I’d meet him outside his work in ten. Can I get another to go?”

Boyfriend. Well, that took the wind out of his sails. Jeremy tried not to show the disappointment that curled in his stomach at the statement. Of course a hottie like that had a boyfriend - although, he had to admit, _boy_ friend wasn’t a bad first sign. And relationships didn’t last forever, right...?

Fuck, Dooley, you were getting desperate. He needed to find someone soon or he was going to start stalking his customers and that would be a workplace violation if he ever fuckin’ saw one. He forces the grin back on his face. “Sure. Your boy have any special tastes in cannoli?”

“Plain.” The man didn’t even seem to be looking at him now. Instead, he was glancing at his phone in a semi-nervous fashion, seeming much more agitated since he realized he may be late. “Can you move quick? I don’t want to keep him waiting.”

Jeremy raises his eyebrow but doesn’t protest, placing both cannolis in a single box and wrapping it with his special ribbon. “For the both of you,” he purrs a bit as he hands the bag over. The man smiles a bit distractedly. “Thanks.”

“For sure. That will be $7 with tax.”

The man digs a five and two ones out of his wallet and hands it over and for a moment their hands brush as Jeremy goes to take the cash. The customer looks a bit startled and glances up, making real eye contact with Jeremy for what seemed like the first time. He swallows, eyes flicking up and down Jeremy’s form, and Jeremy forces himself not to grin. Ah. So, some interest then.

“Thanks - uh - ,” he says again, a bit more strained, looking for a nametag.

“Jeremy,” he supplies readily. “And it’s my pleasure. I bake all of these myself.”

“Do you?” the man blurts. “They look delicious. I - uh - gotta go, but thanks Jeremy.”

The way his name sounded in the other man’s mouth was positively delightful and Jeremy had to force himself from reacting. Get a grip, genius. He just smirks back a bit. “Hope you enjoy and spread the word if you like them.”

The other lingers a bit in the doorway as if he wants to stay, but he just nods and slips out, seeming like he takes Jeremy’s light with him. Jeremy slumps against the counter, humming softly to himself as he plays back the memory.

* * *

As does all good things when they’re not nurtured, the memories of the mysterious customer fades from Jeremy’s mind over the next few days in the bustle of the weekend rush. He doesn’t give another thought to the man other than a vague warmth until suddenly, he’s back.

He slips in again with the Monday lunch rush and Jeremy doesn’t even notice him until he’s back up at the counter. “Hi,” he says again, but this time he seems a bit more agitated than before. Jeremy doesn’t push, too thrilled to see him again. He beams at the other man on the other side of the counter.

“I remember you!” he says - hoping that wasn’t uncomfortable. “Back for more cannolis? I told you that they were the best in this city.”

The blond huffs out a bit of a breathy laugh and Jeremy takes that as his own personal victory. “Yeah. My boyfriend loves them. He - uh - requested I grab two more on my way over to meet him for lunch.”

“That so?” Jeremy asks as he starts to pack two up, not exactly liking how the word ‘requested’ hung in the air. “You eat with him every day?”

“Yeah,” the man says distantly, poking at the counter as he stares at all the sweet treats. “It’s not so far of a walk. We meet up and eat in the little park outside his office when the weather is nice.”

“That’s nice,” Jeremy says, figuring he may as well be supportive. The man was adorable, the way he looked so earnestly at the sweets, the almost childlike passion in his eyes. “I heard it’s romantic if you like - Lady and Tramp the cannoli. One on each end.” He smirks a bit.

“Oh, I don’t eat much,” the other says a bit distractedly. “John says I need to watch my weight. Doesn’t want me developing a dad bod.” He pops up to look at Jeremy and chuckles a bit as if the statement didn’t ring terribly in Jeremy’s ears. He pats his belly. “We’re getting there. But fuck, your cookies do look beautiful.”

“Taste better than they look,” Jeremy says quietly, giving the other a concerned look he can’t hide. The other seemed so .... kind. Funny, gentle, and amazingly beautiful. To think that his boyfriend wasn’t letting him have a fucking cannoli made Jeremy’s blood boil. But he doesn’t say anything. He worked at the damn bakery. Who was he to get involved?

He rings up the cannoli, the guy hands over his $7, and gives him an earnest look. “Thanks. My name is Ryan by the way. I think I’ll be back.” He shoots Jeremy an actual smile, nodding at him a bit, and disappears out the door.

Turning back to the line of some of his more regular customers - one of them smirking at the hearts in Jeremy’s eyes - he tries not to think about Ryan, his beautiful customer, and the potentially problematic confessions he gave over a counter to a stranger.

* * *

Ryan starts to make regular, daily appearances during the rest of the work week. Jeremy’s crush doesn’t get any better. If anything, he finds himself falling deeper and deeper for the man and the cannoli, counting down the minutes until 1:15pm when Ryan arrives, sometimes breathless from his run over here.

He finds out Ryan likes Diet Coke and always has one fresh pulled from the fridge. When it’s slow, they get into more teasing arguments over the counter. Jeremy tries to convince him that it’s the Diet Coke that’s going to kill him over the sweets and he should try coffee or tea or something, Ryan joking back that it was a brown-liquid-filled grave that was awaiting him and he was okay with that.

Jeremy never once sees Ryan eat one of his baked goods over that week, but doesn’t press. What can he do? Despite their borderline flirting, he knows Ryan has a boyfriend. One he likes quite a lot, despite the disturbing things Jeremy heard on that second meeting. Ryan will sometimes mention this ‘John’ in passing when they are talking - interestingly, more often when they’re edging closer and closer to actually flirting.

He takes this as his cue to back off. He’s not going to be a dick.

However, the meetings with Ryan are the bright spot in his otherwise boring days. He loves learning everything he can about the other in the few minutes he has with him. He starts wrapping up the two cannoli early so he can have a bit more time to just talk to Ryan, to see him smile and the corners of his eyes wrinkle.

He can’t stop thinking about his lips. How his body must look under all those clothes. Late at night, when he closes up the shop and disappears to the apartment upstairs, he lays on his couch and tries to fill his thoughts with anyone other than the blond asshole who had utterly consumed his thoughts with this stupid ass crush.

It would be creepy, he tells himself, if he acted on this fixation. But he doesn’t, other than casual flirting that he stops when and if he sees Ryan getting uncomfortable. It’s just a crush and it feels nice to be in love for once. It’s been a while since he’s crushed on anyone, for it to be anything other than a night of hot lust and an empty bed in the morning.

Jeremy can’t help but admit to himself he wants something _real_. He’s not going to get that with Ryan, certainly, but he can nurture something like a middle school crush if it doesn’t do any harm and makes him feel nice and giddy when the other walks in.

* * *

That Friday at 1pm, Jeremy’s just finishing wrapping up the cannolis when the bell rings over his shop door. He looks up and sees the familiar sandy hair and grins brightly again. “Ryan! Welcome back.”

Except, this time, Ryan’s not alone. A man follows. Bigger, built more like a traditional football player. Muscles. While he doesn’t have height on Ryan, who was a taller man himself, he does have a build of a man who wasn’t easy to oppose. A man who was used to getting his way. Attractive, if you were into the big muscly types. Jeremy, who prides himself on being pretty jacked himself, wasn’t into that.

Must be John. Jeremy forces himself to settle down and treat John like any other customer, even though the few things he had heard about the man over the course of their warm counter conversations weren’t at all pleasant.

“Hey Jeremy,” Ryan says, smiling a bit, but Jeremy can instantly tell it doesn’t reach his eyes. Which were slightly red. Was he rubbing at them, or was it the remnants of tears he sees? Ryan doesn’t seem like the guy who would cry easily. He’s got his jacket on. He doesn’t normally wear his jacket. Jeremy doesn’t want to follow that road to its inevitable conclusion.

He doesn’t push. What can he say? In the end, he’s a fucking _store clerk_. His crush doesn’t mean he can try to invade this guys’ life.

“We want the two cannolis,” John says, stepping somewhat in front of Ryan and glaring at Jeremy like he wanted to intimidate him. But Jeremy fought for fun. He grew up in Boston. He wasn’t going to let this guy intimidate him. So he stands tall, meeting his gaze easily, and takes the pre-prepared box with the dumb red ribbon he had carefully wrapped around it, sliding it over.

John takes the box wordlessly, glancing at it. He pulls the ribbon off and drops it on the floor without breaking eye contact with Jeremy and steps on it, putting the cannolis on the counter by the cash register.

Ryan steps forward. “John, don’t be a fucking dick, Jeremy’s got nothing to do with this.”

“He’s got everything to do with this,” John growls. “Shut up.”

Ryan falls silent. Jeremy hates it. He hates it with every fiber of his being. The way Ryan, with his bright eyes and soft smile, the way he seemed to give up to the other with the look of constant frustration. His eyes flick over to Jeremy and the other meets them.

Something in Jeremy’s stomach flips. So, the attraction was mutual. All the days Jeremy thought that maybe the flirting was reciprocal even though Ryan spent most of the time salivating over the pastries were validated. Ryan liked him. And John wasn’t happy about it.

“You’re hitting on my fuckin’ boyfriend,” John says lowly, looking over the counter at Jeremy. His eyes narrow and he slams the box of cannolis down, crushing them. “I thought these were a gift, for me, from a loving boyfriend, but instead they were a pity gift from a _slut_ who just wanted to make moon eyes at the whore behind the pastry counter.”

He whips around to glare at Ryan, who set his jaw in a furious way. “Don’t say that. Just because I was done with you being a possessive piece of shit doesn’t mean that I was fucking thinking about cheating on you.” Ryan takes a step forward.

It happens quickly after that. Jeremy, with a lot of knowledge of street fighting, sees the spring uncoil in John’s shoulder two milliseconds before the fist crashes into the side of Ryan’s face, sending the man sprawling sideways. “You’re a slut!” he snarls, stalking forward.

Jeremy both praises and curses the fact that the shop was empty at this point - maybe other people would have stopped it from escalating this far - but he couldn’t do anything about it now. He leaps over the counter and springs over, grabbing John’s arm before he could hit Ryan again, who was sitting up with fire in his own eyes. “You _fucking ass!”_

 _“Don’t talk back to me!”_ John howls, moving to hit again. But he must be used to dealing with weaker men than Ryan and Jeremy. Jeremy doesn’t know how long Ryan had been dealing with this man hitting him, yelling at him, calling him names, but finally it looked like he had enough. Originally, he was going to jump in to defend Ryan from any further attacks, trying to stop any more damage to his store than what was already caused by the fight, but Ryan didn’t seem to need help.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Ryan snarls, shoving John viciously and sending the other stumbling backwards. John seemed to realize he was cornered between two people who didn’t seem to like him all that much and he stumbles towards the door with an angry look. “Fine,” he snaps. “I don’t want a whore as a boyfriend anyways.”

Ryan just flicks him off and balls his fists as the other turns and leaves them alone. There’s a beat of just breathing as Ryan watches his now ex-boyfriend stalk down the street, back towards his work and out of Ryan’s life. For now, at least.

Then he turns and glances at one of the splintered chairs, which had cracked as Ryan fell on it with the punch. The shifted tables. And ultimately, the smushed box of cannoli. “.... _fuck_ , Jeremy... I’m - I’m so sorry, I never could have...”

“Shhh,” Jeremy says quickly, moving over to him and boldly taking his hand, glancing up to the face of the other man, who - with the fading adrenaline - now looked stressed. “Stay here.”

He moves to flick the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and Ryan gives him a confused look. “I can help you clean...”

“You need that face looked at,” Jeremy breaks in. “I’ve taken a lump or two in my day and unless you get ice on it now, you’re gonna have a hell of a shiner. Sit.” He pushes Ryan into one of his chairs. “I’ll be right with you, okay?”

Ryan - bewildered and settling into a bit of a panicked breakdown - just nods.

Jeremy hates seeing him like this, but was just happy John was seemingly out of the picture. He rattles down his mental list of what to do after a fight, having been in a lot of them in his college and high school days. He trashes the broken chair, rearranges the furniture, sweeps the dirt from the footsteps off the floor, and fixes disturbed centerpieces on his few tables before moving back over to Ryan, crouching so he can look him in the eyes.

The blond is forcing himself to breathe quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose in order to focus, but looks up when Jeremy bends down in front of him. “Hey,” he says weakly. “I can fuck off, I’m sorry - can I give you money for the chair... for the inconvenience to your shop...?”

“Fuck that,” Jeremy says, startling Ryan enough that he actually focuses for the first time on Jeremy, blinking. “I’m sor--”

“Stop apologizing,” Jeremy cuts him off. “I’m fucking impressed, dude. That guy has obviously been a source of mental shit in your life for a long time and you were ready to kick his ass even though he just laid you out. That takes balls. It was honestly really hot.” He smiles a bit, his cheeks turning red as Ryan’s ears burn the same crimson.

“Come upstairs to my apartment,” Jeremy coaxes. “No strings attached and I swear to god, I’m not going to do anything other than to just get you some ice and a more comfortable place to relax.”

Ryan bites his lip for a moment and then smiles back despite how it pulls on the already-forming shiner near his eye. He stands and takes Jeremy’s hand.

* * *

As the clock strikes five, Ryan is still in Jeremy’s small apartment. He’s wrapped in a quilt, a bag of frozen peas on his face. Jeremy sits next to him but far enough apart that it wasn’t weird.

Conversation had varied. Jeremy had called the police, informing them of a domestic abuse altercation that happened at his shop, giving them John’s description. They promised to keep additional cruisers in the area, just in case.

They had just sat for a while, Jeremy’s tv flickering across an episode of The Office, a show they had talked about over one of their weekly meetings. Ryan still seemed shaken. Understandable. From what Jeremy could glean and learned over their week, Ryan lived with John from only a few months into their relationship. It was a good one at first - John had a good job and liked to take Ryan out; they had fun together. But Ryan was quickly taught the rules of this relationship and by the time he knew them for real, he was in too deep to climb out without a catalyst like what had just happened.

Jeremy got it. And didn’t press. Although, he couldn’t help but think of the fact that the current man of his desires was sitting on the couch he had once laid on while fantasizing about him only a few days beforehand.

Finally, Ryan spoke up. “Thanks,” he says quietly, pushing the quilt down and adjusting his seat a bit. “Seriously. I couldn’t have asked anyone to do what you did.”

“What? Stand there like an ass while he hit you and then offer you ice? That’s not exactly heroic.”

“Open your house for me. And don’t lie, you were ready to leap in there.”

Jeremy shrugs. “I guess so. Fighting is nothing new for me.”

“And yet you opened a bakery?”

“I’m full of surprises,” Jeremy flirted and then bit his lip. “I - I just flirt. Listen, Ryan, I’ll be blunt. I like you. A lot. I’m not asking for anything, I know you literally are currently dealing with a messy-ass breakup, but... I’ll be the whore behind the counter if you wanted me to be.”

There’s a silence. Ryan stares at him for a long moment. Jeremy just sits there, hands folded in his lap so he doesn’t rip the shit out of his fingers picking the skin from anxiety.

Then Ryan surges forward, grabbing Jeremy’s shirt, and before Jeremy can do or say anything, they’re kissing fervently. Not used to being manhandled, Jeremy goes to grab Ryan’s hands and direct the kiss, but he knows this is just as much Ryan’s show of dominance and authority after what had been done to him, so he lets the other do what he wants.

And it’s _good_. Fuck, it’s so good, a kiss fueled not only by lust and curiosity but also a crush that had been nurtured for days, stirring something down in his gut and making it burn, a kiss fueled by the desperation of a man who hadn’t kissed anything he wanted to kiss in months.

When Ryan’s tongue slips into Jeremy’s mouth, he lets it, making a breathless little moan that causes Ryan to miss a beat as he reacts. It’s messy and sloppy and fast, no one knows what they’re doing, but if this is what Ryan thinks he needs, Jeremy is not going to say no.

Ryan pulls away before Jeremy’s able to start rutting against him, probably for the best - sex wasn’t what was needed right now even though Jeremy was rock hard and thinking solely of the way Ryan tasted. They pull apart, lips red and gasping a bit, and then stare, again.

When Ryan licks his lips, Jeremy’s eyes track his tongue, forcing himself to try to stay calm. “Uh....,” Ryan says weakly.

“That was .... really, really good,” Jeremy breathes, looking at him for a bit of a smile. “I can die happy with that kiss. Jesus, man. Your tongue though.”

“I’ve got many talents,” Ryan snorts breathlessly. And then the tension breaks as they’re both laughing, starting quietly before chuckling before laughing uproariously as the tension seems to leak off of Ryan’s limbs.

“I don’t know if I can do anything ... I dunno, serious,” he says when they stop laughing. “But ... if you can wait...”

“I’ll wait,” Jeremy shrugs. “Hell, it’s not like I have a lot of options, nor want any other after that kiss. You take the time you need. And if you ever want to come back for more kisses - no strings attached - I’ll be ready for you. And whatever you want to give.”

“Maybe I am a slut,” Ryan chuckles, and Jeremy shrugs. “There are worse things to be.”

Ryan shrugs and smirks. “Hey. If I date the baker, does that mean I can eat anything that is on those shelves?” His eyes dance with mirth.

Jeremy fakes rolling his eyes. “I see! Just using me for my sweets.” He scoffs for a moment before surging forward to steal another breathless kiss, lingering on those soft lips. “Too bad I like your dad bod so much.”

He moves towards the apartment door to run down to the shop to grab him something. When he looks back, Ryan is still wrapped in his quilt, sitting on his couch, looking for all the world like he belonged there.

He may not have the relationship he wanted. It would be a rocky road before Ryan felt comfortable again with anything that required actual serious commitment, and Jeremy did respect that. Hell, he’d find it insane if Ryan didn’t want to take it really slow after what he just witnessed.

But he had his sweet kiss, more flavorful than his best cherry tart and even more red, and that memory would linger in his mind forever more. And the promise of even more sweet kisses and memories to be made, should he have the patience to wait for them.

No one would call Jeremy Dooley a patient man.

But he could - and would - learn.

If only for the hungry, sweet-loving demon in the next room.


End file.
